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He doesn’t get it. None of that matters. My dad can be proud that he’s the first Black chief surgeon, but that doesn’t mean he’s proud to be Black.
“I’m just saying it’s a little hard to change when you have a journal telling you who to be.”
But, for the first time, I’m considering how toxic it might be, writing in stone who I am, and who I should be.
“Quinn, you’ve always been beautiful. You know that.”
There are enough closed doors and glass ceilings in the world. My comfort zone shouldn’t be one of them.
“Home is not a place. Home is in here.” She pats her hand over her heart. She says, “Don’t you fear, I’m right here.”
wasted so much time living in fear that I thought I was comfortable, but I was writhing in a cage that I didn’t know existed, making lists of all my worries with no intent to do anything about them.
pouring down her face. She doesn’t understand that she can’t talk about Black people without talking about me too. She doesn’t understand that using the N-word in any context is never a joke. Not for me, it isn’t.
Maybe the only thing I need to remember is my name, who I love, and what I love about life. That’s all Hattie remembers. Maybe that’s all that matters.
want you to be able to celebrate our differences. I need you to be aware that our differences will get us different outcomes in life. And I need you to know that just because I don’t fit into your stereotypes, that doesn’t mean I’m any less Black.”
Kissing Carter feels like I’m right where I need to be. Like everything happened just so that I could end up here, free of lies and fear and guilt, with friends who understand and respect me, and a boy who isn’t perfect, but who’s patient and whose light shines over all my darkness. Like finally.
